


every day he wears the same thing; i think he smokes pot

by dangerbears



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 07:52:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/821835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dangerbears/pseuds/dangerbears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. this is mostly meet-cute nonsense. also, it's very hot. temperature-wise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	every day he wears the same thing; i think he smokes pot

**Author's Note:**

> LOWER ANY AND ALL EXPECTATIONS.

The sun is right overhead. It's, like, literally right on top of Louis. His hair is actually hot to the touch and his skin feels like it's bubbling off and he's still in his work clothes and perhaps this is hell. Louis leans against the bus stop and stares across the shimmering waves of heat rippling off the sidewalk. He imagines the gates of hell in the distance, opening up like ghostly arms of molten gold. 

Or something. 

The bus isn't fucking coming, is the problem. Louis has been stuck behind the counter of the hottest fucking coffee shop on the fucking planet for six hours and now all he wants it to get on the bus that will invariably smell like roasting trash and get to his apartment which will invariably be the temperature of Satan's bedchamber. 

But the bus isn't fucking coming. 

Louis presses his forehead to the hot metal of the bus stop sign and sighs. His skin is sticky. His face is sweating and his fringe is stringy and he feels like the dogshit he can smell wafting through the air. Brilliant. 

Pushing himself away from the sign, he starts walking east in search of shade. He is a Desert Warrior. He can make it. He will find shade and claim it for his own. He will build his city from the smouldering ashes of Shoreditch. History will know him as a ruthless conqueror, but his subjects will remember him as a fair and just king. 

The record shop to his right advertises air conditioning, and those two words are enough to convince Louis to abandon his war cries. As he pushes open the door, the cool air welcomes him in like he's a celebrated hero. 

Louis maybe needs some water and a lie-down. 

"Hey!" a loud voice rings out. Louis looks around and sees nothing. 

"God?" Louis responds. 

The voice laughs and a wiry blond boy in a snapback and a tank top pops up from behind the counter. "Sorry, mate," he says with a smile. "Computer came unplugged. Anyway, let me know if I can help you with anything!" 

Louis grins at him. "Thanks, but, y'know. The air conditioner is my true mistress."

"Ah." The boy laughs again. "I'm never first choice. Fate is cruel. I'm Niall. I'm also bored, so if you're not looking for anything, you are definitely allowed to talk to me." 

Louis walks over and leans against the counter, tired of being on his feet. 

Niall watches him with a smile. "Your shoulders are really fucking red." 

"What?" Louis glances at his skin and groans. "I don't _burn_ , god. I am turning into a mere _mortal_." 

Laughing again, Niall says, "Save it, Apollo. I'm Irish." 

Louis gives him a once over and smirks. "An ivory skinned beauty, I see." 

So, like. Louis has been standing in the sun for twenty minutes and he's been standing in a stuffy coffee shop for six hours before that and now he's cooling down and there's this cute boy in front of him. So, like. Sue him if he flirts. 

And, like. Niall has a great laugh. It's loud and full-bodied and he's got straight white teeth and blue eyes and rosy cheeks and messy blond fringe poking out of his dumb hat and it all comes together to create this stupidly endearing boy. Louis can't decide if he wants to give Niall a noogie or, like, run his hands up and down his biceps. 

Maybe both. In that order. Or reverse order. Whichever seems fitting in the moment. 

Louis is staring, now. Great. He blinks and Niall's still grinning at him. "Sorry, mate," Louis says, shaking his head. "I can't decide if you're a mirage, or what. Oasis in the desert type shit. If I get too close, you might disappear." 

Okay. Cool. Someone needs to actually tape Louis's mouth closed. 

Louis blinks again. Niall's still grinning, even wider now. 

He says, “That’s said to me with some frequency. An oasis in the desert, a godsend, a gift to this universe. I’m widely known as being great.” 

“And so modest,” Louis says back, grinning up through his eyelashes. "Hey, sell me an album." 

Niall bites down on his lower lip and looks at Louis appraisingly. "Alright, I'm gonna have to ask you a few questions first." 

Louis quirks an eyebrow. "Go for it."

"Alright." Niall sinks down into the chair in front of the computer and fiddles around for a moment. Neil Young starts blaring from the massive tower speakers. Louis rolls his eyes and Niall laughs again. 

Louis is quickly falling in love with Niall's laugh. Gross. 

"You can, like, sit, you know," Niall says. "Hop up on the counter." 

"Thank you, shit," Louis breathes. "Been on my feet all bloody day." 

Niall leans back in his chair, resting his ankle on his knee. He steeples his fingers and studies Louis with joking sincerity. "First of all, what's your name?" 

Louis laughs. "Louis. Tomlinson."

Niall nods. "Hometown?" 

"Doncaster." 

"Hmmm. Favourite band?" 

Louis tilts his head to the side, thinking. "The Fray." 

Nodding, Niall hums again. "Favourite band pre-1980?" 

Louis has to think harder for this one. He kicks his heels against the wood base of the counter. It's covered in album release stickers and old band stickers and posters for local shows. "Queen," he finally says.

Niall nods. "Good choice. Okay. Have you ever heard of Bastille?"

Louis shakes his head no. 

"Cool." Niall smiles and leans back over the computer. Something with soft chanting and a heavy beat starts pouring out of the speakers and Louis leans back on his hands, closing his eyes. 

"It's good," he says, after the singing starts. It is; it's got that certain quality of overwhelming that Louis loves in music. Something to get lost in. 

Niall nods a bit proudly. "I know. Wait till the harmonies kick in." 

They listen in silence for a bit longer, Niall bobbing his head to the beat and mouthing the words. Louis watches him with a small smile that he can't bloody control on his lips. 

After half the album has gone by and Louis has learned that Niall's from a tiny town in Ireland and that his favourite band is the Eagles and his favourite voice is Michael Bublé and he likes to eat. Everything. He likes to eat everything. 

Louis has maybe never laughed so hard and so long with another person in his life. He's quite used to making himself laugh, but Niall is – well. Niall just plays off Louis's stupidity with sunshine stupidity of his own and Louis has actually _wiped his eyes_ from laughing so hard. He didn't even know that was a real thing. 

The sun's disappearing, and the long shadows of twilight are stretching across the road. Louis can't see waves of heat anymore. A blessing from god. 

Niall glances at the clock. "Shit," he says. "Was meant to close a half hour ago. You've charmed me with your wiles. You've wiled me with your charms. I am both wiled and charmed." 

Louis grins. "I've been told I do that." 

Niall stands and arches an eyebrow in Louis's direction. "Gonna buy the record?" 

"I don't know," Louis says, coy. "Are you gonna be here tomorrow?" 

"Yeah," Niall says, drawing the word out, leaning against the register with his hips cocked. 

Louis hops off the counter and winks with a stupid smitten smile. "Then I'll see you tomorrow." 

The door jangles on his way out. 

*

The next day is even fucking hotter. Louis fully and completely does not understand how someone can order a hot coffee when it's fifty six billion degrees outside, and he fully does not understand how it's possible to look cute after working an eight hour shift in a sixty seven billion degree coffeeshop. 

But Louis is nothing if not determined. He slips into the bathroom as they're closing up and he washes his face, restyles his hair, and pulls on a tighter shirt. When he saunters out, Harry looks up from where he's pretending to sweep and lets out a low whistle.

"I've had dreams about the moment you finally let me bend you over the couch, Lou, but I didn't expect it to be today," Harry says. 

Louis smirks, striking a pose. "How do I look?" 

"Hot," Zayn says, dryly. "Temperature-wise." 

Sticking out his tongue, Louis wipes down the counter carelessly and tosses the rag in the sink. "Can I bunk off early?" 

Harry huffs out a laugh. "First you have to tell us what you're doing. Wait, sorry, I mean _who_ you're doing." 

"Ugh." Louis checks his hair again in the chrome of the espresso machine. "You know the record shop down the road by the bus stop?"

Zayn gets a stupid fucking look of dawning realisation. "Oh, Louis," he says.

Louis raises his eyebrows. "What?" 

"What?" Harry immediately spins around to look at Zayn. "What? Oh my god. Is there drama?" 

Zayn's smirking now. "Louis is in love with Niall Horan." 

Harry looks blank. "Fill me in!" Now he's whining. "Zaaaayn." 

Louis rolls his eyes. "I'm in love with no man. They have air conditioner there. What's a Niall? You're stupid. And ugly." 

"Air conditioning?" Zayn says. "That's cute. Pet names already." 

Scowling, Louis straightens up and adjust his shirt. "I'm quite sure I have no idea what you're talking about." 

"Lou!" Harry says. "Louis likes a boy, Louis likes a boy, Louis likes a boy," he sings as he starts some sort of demented ballroom dancing with the broom. Louis is pretty sure Harry's letting the broom lead. 

Louis hates his friends. "Whatever," he says. "I'm leaving. Don't tell Ben I left early, yeah?" 

Zayn waves a hand. "Tell Niall hi for me." 

Louis pauses at the door. "Wait," he says. "You know him?" 

"Oh, yes," Zayn says. "Horan and I go way back." 

Turning around slowly, Louis puts his hands on his hips and juts his chin out in Zayn's direction. "Details, Malik."

It would probably be considered rude to smack the smug expression off Zayn's face, Louis thinks, but the temptation is overwhelming. 

"Well," Zayn starts, "he lives with Jesy."

"Jesy," Louis says. "Perrie's friend." 

Zayn nods. "We go over there quite a bit. Get drunk, play some guitar. He's pretty good." 

"And?" Louis presses. 

Zayn blinks. "And? He always has beer. And food. And good music. And FIFA. He's hilarious, too. Loud." 

Louis closes his eyes and reminds himself of the potential rudeness of slapping Zayn. "And," he says, dangerously, "Zayn, do you happen to know which way he swings?" 

"Oh!" Zayn says, as if he's fucking surprised by the question. Louis twitches with irritation. "Well. Hmm. Wait," and Zayn pauses, thinking. "I'm not sure, actually. I've never seen him with anyone." He furrows his brow. "Weird," he mumbles.

Louis licks his lips and tries to control his breathing. He's very yoga. He is the epitome of yoga. The embodiment of yoga. "I am the embodiment of yoga," he says. 

Harry thinks about that one. "Not a thing. You can't verb yoga." 

"I'm so yoga I'm the Dalai Yoga," Louis challenges.

Zayn rolls his eyes. "Whatever, Louis, you could probably seduce the damn queen. Go do your magic."

"Wait!" Harry yells. "Tell us what happened! When did you make this love connection?" 

Louis sighs, hand on the doorknob. "I stopped in yesterday because of my sweet mistress, the air conditioning. And then, I dunno, Niall and I started talking. For, like, hours or something. About rubbish. He's hilarious. And, like, really hot. Despite the air conditioning." Louis chuckles at his own joke. He's the only one. Fuck them. Niall would have laughed. 

Harry's beaming at him. "Lou," he says fondly.

"Ugh." Louis turns the handle. "Goodbye. The cynic and the sap," he mutters. 

"Good luck!" Harry calls after him. Louis waves through the glass.

The walk to the record shop is short, but the heat is fucking visible in the air; a thin film of disgusting, coating everything. Louis pushes open the door and hopes like hell his hair stayed in place. 

"Louis! You've returned!" Niall yells from the desk. "Hey." 

Louis grins. "Hey. I think I might buy that album, but maybe you should recommend me something else, just in case."

"I can do that." Niall gestures to the counter and Louis hoists himself up. "You look good," Niall says, eyes drifting across Louis's chest to his arms and down to his thighs. 

Louis tingles under the attention. Well, either under the attention or the drying sweat on his skin. Gross. He doesn't know quite what to say so he just winks back at Niall. 

Niall laughs a little. "Okay. How do you feel about Fiona Apple?"

"I've only heard that one song. Parting Gift?" Louis shrugs.

"Parting Gift?" Niall asks, switching the music over from Rilo Kiley to Fiona Apple. "That's a strange choice." 

"Yeah. Well. I had a boyfriend, once upon a time, and he was really into making mixes for every occasion." Louis smirks.

Niall looks at him for a second, and then: "Oh. _Oh_. Even breakups? That's shitty." 

"Yeah." Chuckling, Louis looks down at his hands. "But whatever. Music people, eh?" he says, raising an eyebrow. 

Niall lets out a burst of laughter. "I've never made a breakup mix that I've actually, like, given to someone. That's just, like. Cold." 

"Oh! I'm supposed to say hi to you from Zayn." Louis kicks his heels against the collaged wood of the counter. He feels oddly intimidated saying that, because, like. Worlds colliding, or something. Zayn could have definitely told Niall some embarrassing stories about Louis and Louis doesn't know how to control that damage. 

Niall's face lights up. "Zayn! Love Zayn! How do you know him? His girlfriend is one of my roommate's best friends! They're adorable. And always in my bloody apartment, being adorable. Sickening, really." 

"Oh, believe me, I know," Louis says. "Zayn's been one of my best mates since school. He used to live with me and Harry, but then he and Pez moved in together. Whenever we go over there, it's like a free sex show. Except not sex, just, like, a sugar overdose. Never thought I'd see the day." 

"Harry?" Niall asks, looking away and down to the computer, fiddling with the mouse.

Louis bites back a triumphant grin. "Harry. Cherub of a boy, really. He's a walking contradiction. Never sure if you wanna fuck him or pinch his cheeks." 

Niall half smiles at that, but it looks forced. "And you two live together? Cute." 

Chewing on his lip, Louis relishes the moment. That moment of absolute victory, when he can make a cute boy jealous. "Yep. He's my very best mate. I'm a bit worried he's gonna meet some girl and move out, leaving me to fend for myself."

"Who would feed and water you?" Niall says, visibly relaxing. His smile loosens. 

Louis wants to climb into his lap and kiss his little red cheeks and little red mouth and muss up his dumb blonde hair and steal his stupid snapback and touch his arms and also dick. "Indeed," Louis agrees. "I'd be bereft, really. Stranded and alone, with no one to care for me." He pauses, and flutters his eyelashes at Niall. "Would you take care of me, Niall?" he asks, letting his voice go husky. 

Niall licks his lips, clearly trying not to smile. "Do you need a Prince Charming, Lou?" he says back, in his own lowered voice. 

"Nah," Louis returns, "not _need_ , per se, but I can't imagine turning down the offer." 

"You waiting for your tall, dark, and handsome?" Niall asks, standing up and walking over to lean against the counter, next to Louis. 

Louis tilts his head, thinking. "I don't know if that's quite what I had in mind." 

"Oh?" Niall's close, now. Louis can feel the heat of his body on his own thighs. 

Shrugging, Louis spreads his legs a little bit, shifting on the counter. "I'm kind of into blonds lately." 

Niall smiles, a big one that spreads all over his face. "Are you?" 

Louis wrinkles his nose. "I'm being awful forward and getting nothing back. That's quite rude." 

"Well," Niall says with a laugh, "how about I tell you I'm into cute boys with brown hair and sunburned shoulders and stupid jokes and big laughs?" 

"Yeah? And are you gonna do anything about it?" Louis responds, challenging, but it's belied by his matching stupid smile. 

Niall pretends to think about this. "Well, it turns out I met a boy who fits my type almost exactly yesterday. I was thinking about asking for his number, but now I want to kiss him first. Do you think that's moving too fast?" 

"Hmmm," Louis sounds. He grabs at Niall's shoulders and drags him between his thighs. "I think your boy probably wouldn't mind."

"My boy, eh?" Niall's hands slide up to rest high on Louis's legs. 

Louis just rolls his eyes and pulls Niall closer, sliding his hands around Niall's neck and into the short hair at the base of his skull. Niall leans in and Louis pulls back slightly, grabbing the snapback off Niall's head and shoving it on his own. 

"Oi," Niall murmurs, nose brushing against Louis's. "Hat hair." 

Louis closes his eyes and slides his fingers up through Niall's hair, messing it up, just as Niall presses his lips to his own. Niall's hands tighten on his thighs momentarily, and then he grasps the dip of Louis's waist, and Louis slides till just the edge of his bum is left on the counter and Niall presses closer. 

"You taste like," Louis starts, before he gets distracted by Niall's lips and arms. Niall hums questioningly. 

"Like?" Niall asks, pulling back just enough to get the words out. His eyes are heavy on Louis's lips and his hands are roaming over his back and sides. They can't seem to keep still, and Louis understands because Niall has so much _arm_ on display and it's turning pink under Louis's hands and his shoulders are, like, big. And stuff. 

Fuck. 

"Like," Louis tries again, but he can't finish. He has to lean back in and catch Niall's smile with his own one more time. Niall huffs a laugh into Louis's mouth and Louis just pulls him closer. 

"Like?" Niall asks again. 

Louis rolls his eyes and Niall grins, rubbing their noses together. "It's gonna sound cheesy if I say it now, shit," Louis says. "Too much buildup." 

"Tell me anyway." 

"Oh god." Louis pulls him in for one more kiss and then wrinkles his nose at himself. "You taste like sunshine." 

Niall looks surprised for a moment, before it immediately melts into amusement and he bursts into loud laughs. "Holy shit," he gasps, dropping his face to Louis's neck. Louis rolls his eyes at the wall behind Niall's shoulders. 

"You're right," Niall says, between giggles. "That was pretty fuckin' cheesy." 

"Oh, shut up," Louis says. 

Niall grins. "Well, okay." 

Louis shakes his head and pulls him back in. 

*

The next afternoon is just as hot, but the humidity broke and now it's just dumping down rain. Louis leans against the counter with his chin in his hands, watching the drops splash against the sidewalk, the iridescent rainbows of oil from the weeks of heat, pooling in the streets. 

"I could be a poet," he says to Harry, who's drumming with coffee stirrers. The shop is dead, because apparently people can brave dry heat, but god forbid they brave the rain. It's _London_ , Louis thinks. People are fucking weird. 

Harry nods. "Yeah. You're a regular Allen Ginsberg. He wrote about dicks, right?"

"Vulgar," Louis sniffs. "I am deep. And introspective." 

Harry nods again. "You definitely take dicks deep. And introspectively." 

"I absolutely loathe you." Louis turns around to sit on the counter. He's really glad Ben doesn't really bother to work shifts with Harry and him, because the amount of rules they break is kind of appalling. "I could be a famous poet." 

"Is there such a thing as a famous poet?" Harry starts drumming on Louis's forehead. Louis bites at Harry's hands and they bat at each other until the door opens. 

Louis hops off the counter and puts on his customer smile, which Harry adoringly calls his murderer smile. It might be slightly manic, but whatever. He's obscured by the espresso machine anyway. 

"Hey!" Harry says, moving over to the register. "Welcome! You're brave for being out there. It's the end of days." Harry's customer smile is unequivocally charming. Louis is envious. 

"I might drown," says the customer in a suspiciously Irish accent, "but the sun was frying me like a proper well-done steak, so I'll take this for now." 

Louis smiles to himself. "I'll take this one, Haz, I think," he says, coming out from his espresso machine hiding place. "What can I get you?" he asks Niall. His face might break from smiling, from hanging out with Niall too much, from stupid sunshine. 

Niall's smile immediately doubles when he sees Louis and a curl of warmth explodes in Louis's stomach. "Hi," Niall says. He's wearing a different snapback from yesterday, Louis notices. Idiot boy.

"Hi," Louis says back, stupidly.

"So, um. I realised I never actually got your number." Niall leans on the counter and grins up at Louis. 

Harry squeaks from behind Louis and Louis reaches back blindly, shoving his hand in Harry's face. Harry licks his fingers. 

"I could get you my number, probably," Louis says, but makes no move to write it down. Harry makes a desperate noise from under Louis's palm. 

Niall just keeps smiling. "Okay," he says. "I'll be waiting." He pushes off the counter and walks out the door with a wave to Harry and a blown kiss to Louis. 

Louis catches it and winks back. 

Once he's gone, Harry turns to Louis with wide eyes. "Lou!" he all-but-shrieks. "Was that your boy? He's _adorable_! How could you _not give him your number_? I'm going to _kill you_."

Turning back to the espresso machine to unnecessarily clean the milk steamer, Louis hides his smile. "Just wait."

*

Not ten minutes later, Niall bursts back in, holding the hat he was wearing the day before. He's clutching a slip of paper in his other hand. 

Harry turns to Louis, curious. 

"Can I help you?" Louis asks, fighting the smile threatening to give him premature wrinkles. 

Niall's laughing, shaking his head. "You're insane," he mutters, reaching across the counter and plopping the hat on Louis's head. "It's a perfect fit, Cinderella." 

Louis feigns a swoon into an unsuspecting Harry's arms. "My Prince Charming has come, Haz!" he cries. 

Grabbing Louis's arm and tugging him from Harry, Niall practically spreads his whole body across the counter to pull Louis into a laughing kiss. 

Louis grins into Niall's lips. "I got sunshine on a cloudy day," he sings, off-key. 

Niall laughs. "You're the cheesiest." 

"Oi!" Louis pouts. "This is supposed to end with a happily ever after, not an insult." 

"Okay, you're right." Niall kisses him again, cupping Louis's cheeks in his hands. "Is there a bathroom or something? Because I definitely have a happy ending in mind." 

Louis winks and slips out from behind the counter, grabbing Niall's hand and yanking him back to the employee's restroom. 

When they emerge twenty minutes later, sweaty and disheveled, Harry's dancing around the empty shop with his broom, eyes closed, singing 'Someday My Prince Will Come' as loud as he can. 

They stand there, fingers laced together, as Harry artfully waltzes the broom into a deep dip, and then leaning down to press a tender kiss to the handle. 

Louis can see Niall's shoulders starting shake with laughter and he presses his fingers to Niall's lips to keep it inside. 

He says, "The loo's free, Haz, if you and your broom need your own happy ending." 

Harry whips around, horrified. His face is bright red. He points a finger at Louis and Niall. "I will deny this to my grave, Tomlinson." 

Louis just laughs, and Niall turns to him. "I gotta get back to the shop, but I'll call you?"

"Yeah," Louis says. "Glad you found my number, hotshot." 

Niall grins and taps his nose knowingly. "I'm a little slow on the uptake, but I promise to catch on if you make a breakup mix." 

Louis pretends to consider this before saying, "I tell you what – buy me dinner and let's see if we can't figure out a sex mix." 

*

The next day, mid-afternoon, Louis is collapsed on the bar next to the espresso machine, staring outside. Ribbons of heat are glimmering above the pavement. Louis thinks he can see men on horseback in the distance, riding towards his Shoreditch coffeeshop. 

"Harry," Louis gets out somehow. "Harry?" 

"Mmmngnbgn," Harry groans from where he's splayed out on an empty table. "I need you to water me. All of my fluids are coming out my pores." 

Louis ignores him. "Harry, I think the Dothraki have come to make me their Khaleesi. I always said I'm destined for glory." 

"What the fuck," Harry says, slowly, painfully, "are you talking about."    
"It's my time," Louis babbles. "I am going to reign supreme. I shall be fearless and ruthless, striking fear in the hearts of my enemies and love in the hearts of my people." 

"It is literally forty degrees in this hellhole, Tomlinson," Harry says, closing his eyes. "I don't have time for you." 

The door scrapes open, then, and Harry has to stand up and pretend he's wiping down the table he was just sweating all over.

"Am I the Chosen?" Louis shrieks toward the door. "Have you finally come to take me away? The far off lands have always needed a ruler such as I. I shall be fair, just, and kind to those who support me."

Niall walks over to the counter and grins. He takes off his snapback and wipes his forehead before shaking his head fondly. "Get your things, Princess. I'm sweeping you away to frozen yohgurt." 

Louis turns wide eyes to Harry, who's lazily wiping off the table. "Harold, I think I'm in love."


End file.
